Missing at Marshlands Part 30

"What would you like-jewelry?" Terry questioned with a quiet sort of emphasis on the last word.

"Jewelry?" Melissa's eyes lit up greedily. "I got some jewelry now that'd be better than any you could give me. No, you better not come along. I got to be goin' home."

"How could you have?" Terry asked, deliberately trying to antagonize the girl. "The only jewelry you ever got was that old bracelet Sim gave you weeks ago and that your father made you give back."

"It is not," Melissa insisted. "I've got--No, I won't tell you; you're just jealous."

"Come on, Melissa, be a sport. You tell me about the secret you know and I'll tell you something I know about you. Something fine. You'll love it.

What do you say, is it a bargain?"

Terry waited. It would never do to rush things. If Melissa got stubborn it would be hopeless, and Terry was almost positive, now, that the queer girl was in possession of something.

Melissa looked at her uninvited guest in the boat distrustfully. There was no reason for not trusting her. The three girls had been very kind to her this summer and had tried to give her the bracelet. Still, she hesitated. Her father was also to be reckoned with. What would be his att.i.tude? Oh, well, Melissa mentally shrugged.

"I did take the pin, but no one was there, and I knew the man wouldn't care," Melissa said, watching Terry closely.

"When, Melissa? When did you take it?" Terry asked, hoping that the girl could throw some light on Dimitri's disappearance.

"One day when the man was out with his dog, painting," Melissa replied.

"I sneaked in just to have a look around. Some of the village people said he might be a spy, so I went over to see what a spy was. What is a spy, anyway?" Melissa asked, forgetting for the minute that she had just told Terry that the pin had not been found after all.

"Never mind that. Dimitri's not a spy. That's foolish. Tell me the secret you know." Terry was becoming impatient.

Melissa hedged. This girl was too wise. Melissa's father might punish her severely, send her away, even, where she'd have to dress up and wear shoes in hot weather and do other uncomfortable things.

"You won't tell my father?" Melissa begged Terry.

"Not if you don't want me to," Terry replied.

"Well," Melissa began, "over at my house I've got the prettiest box!"

Terry jumped. The snuffbox! But she mustn't seem too surprised.

"You have? Tell me about it. I won't tell your father," Terry said, smiling confidentially.

"I got it on the houseboat. It was in a little closet on the wall and I broke the door open to see it," Melissa confessed, now trusting Terry completely.

"But how did you know it was there?" asked Terry.

"The pretty lady told me about it. She gave me a dollar to bring it to her, but after I found it, I liked it so much I couldn't bear to give it up," Melissa explained.

"But don't you know, Melissa, that you shouldn't take things that belong to other people?" Terry said gently.

"This was only a yellow box, and the lady said it was hers, anyway."

"It wasn't, Melissa. It was Dimitri's, and the lady had no right to it.

Where is it now?"

"I've got it safe," the girl said briefly.

"Melissa," began Terry in a tone that commanded attention, "that was a very wrong and dangerous thing to do, to take that box. I want you to come back with me, while I explain to my friends and the Russian man's brother just what happened. Then I want you to go over to your house with us and give back the box."

"Oh, no," pleaded Melissa. "I won't do it. My father would do something awful to me if I did."

"You've got to. If you don't," threatened Terry, "you'll probably be arrested, and then what will become of you?"

Melissa's eyes widened with fright. "Arrested?" she echoed dully.

Terry nodded her head.

"You better come back with me," she said quietly. Slowly Melissa began to turn the boat. She was cornered, and she knew it. Terry spoke quietly as they rowed back to the cottage, explaining to the worried girl that she and her friends would see that no harm came to her. So well did she plead that by the time they docked the boat, Melissa had grown confident, and even eager to do Terry's bidding.

CHAPTER XXVIII Driven Away

A great deal of tact was necessary to keep Melissa in a helpful frame of mind. One careless word, and Terry knew Melissa would run. So, hoping her chums would understand, she walked back to the house, talking cheerfully to the girl as they went.

"Melissa is going to help us find the snuffbox," Terry announced to the astonished group that awaited them on the porch. "She knows where it is, and she's going to take us over to her house for it."

Frantic looks and powerful concentration seemed to do the trick, for Arden fell in with Terry's plan.

"That's fine, Melissa," Arden complimented her. "Let's start at once, before it gets too dark. Terry, you and Melissa go together, and the rest of us will follow in our boat."

"Give her back the pin, at least for a time," suggested Arden. "It will make her trust us more."

"Not a bad idea," agreed Terry. "I will."

"Yes, do," said Serge in a low voice.

Terry slipped the pin back to Melissa, and she and the girl started for the boats.

"All right, Mother?" Terry asked. "Do you want to come too?"

"No," replied Mrs. Landry. "I might be of some use here. Come back as quickly as you can, and good luck to you."

They needed no urging, and with Melissa leading and the others following, they crossed the peaceful bay and landed close to the pitiful shack that Melissa called "home."

"It's in my room," the girl told them, proud in her simple way to be the center of so much excitement.

"You show us," Arden urged.

Melissa entered the solitary house, the door of which swung loosely on its hinges. The front room, furnished with an unpainted wooden table and three rickety chairs, was dreary and uninviting. The girl, clumping along in the boots which were much too large for her, entered a small room to one side. It was little bigger than a large closet with a white-painted bed and an old bureau topped by a cracked looking gla.s.s.

After much shaking and pulling, Melissa succeeded in opening the top drawer. She rummaged under some old clothes and thrust her hands far back in the bureau.

Suddenly, with an unbelieving look on her face, she turned to the little group crowded in the narrow doorway.